


here i am (forever with your soul)

by sicilliana



Series: Persona 5 x Soul Eater AU [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Goro Akechi is tsundere af, M/M, P3 and P4 cast make cameos, Soul Eater AU, cw: blood for chapter 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24963172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sicilliana/pseuds/sicilliana
Summary: Goro gritted his teeth. Lowering his voice, he growled, “I swore to become the most powerful weapon on my own! I’ve had a lot of people try to be my meister, and they all failed. No meister can match my soul wavelength!”Igor smiled and glanced at something past Goro’s right shoulder. “And what would you say if I found one?”Following his line of sight, Goro turned around to see another boy, reclining lazily in one of the armchairs, with his elbow on the armrest, propping up his chin. His messy black hair partially obscured his cold, gray eyes, and his small, amused smile made Goro feel like a small prey animal being stalked by a large panther.No. He wasn’t prey, he was a goddamn weapon, and this kid wasn’t some apex predator, he was some house cat about to bite off more than he could chew.(Soul Eater AU)
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Persona 5 x Soul Eater AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820659
Comments: 33
Kudos: 276
Collections: Shuake, Skurrel's Personal Fanfic Recommendations





	1. you gave me a reason to live

As he was climbing the several thousand steps towards Death’s chambers, Goro Akechi had to wonder why the headmaster of Death Weapon Meister Academy wanted to talk to  _ him,  _ of all people. Through some polite questioning of the other incoming students, he seemed to be the only one who got a special invitation.

… it had to be something positive, right? According to his acceptance letter, he had passed the entrance exam with flying colors. He couldn’t have done anything to get in trouble yet …

_ (unless of course, Death had done his homework and looked into his past, but no, that was impossible, he was very good at covering his tracks -) _

No more time for nervous theorizing - here he was, at the large, ornate door that he was told to find. He pushed it open, expecting dark colors and dim lighting, with perhaps some macabre decorations.

Instead, he was met with soft velvet blue hues and plush armchairs, with an old jazz record playing on a gramophone. He had also pictured Death as more of a tall, skeletal being with a flowing black robe, but at the large oak desk sat a shorter, balding man in a suit with bloodshot eyes and the longest nose that Goro had ever seen.

_ (don’t comment on the nose, don’t comment on the nose -) _

Goro cleared his throat and greeted, “Nose to meet you, Headmaster.”

_ (shit) _

Goro coughed and tried to start over. “I mean, uh -  _ nice  _ to meet you, Headmaster Death, I didn’t mean -”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I get that a lot. And, uh, I’m not really fond of the whole ‘Headmaster Death’ title … My name is Igor.”

He bowed politely. “And my name is Goro Akechi.”

Igor smiled and skimmed through a small packet of papers on his desk. “Yes, yes, I have your application and exam right here … can you give me a summary of your weapon form?”

Goro straightened his spine. “A sword - two swords, actually. A laser saber with long range capabilities and a serrated blade for close combat.”

Igor nodded as he continued to thumb through the application. “I see. And it appears that you’ve been working and training on your own, without a meister?”

A knot formed in his stomach - the same knot that formed when anyone tried to imply that he should find a meister. He  _ thought  _ he covered this in the essay portion of his application, but Goro supposed he needed to go through it again. Taking small, calculated steps towards the desk, he began explaining, “As I mentioned in my application essay, I  _ don’t  _ need a meister. I delayed coming here for an extra year so I could continue to train on my own. I was assured by multiple people that I could get through DWMA as a solo weapon.”

Igor leaned forward and steepled his fingers. “And if that is still your wish at the end of the semester, you may do so. But in the meantime, could you humor an old man?”

Goro gritted his teeth. All that extra work, and he was  _ still  _ going to have a meister forced on him? Lowering his voice, he growled, “I swore to become the most powerful weapon  _ on my own!  _ I’ve had a lot of people try to be my meister, and they  _ all  _ failed. No meister can match my soul wavelength!”

Igor smiled and glanced at something past Goro’s right shoulder. “And what would you say if I found one?”

Following his line of sight, Goro turned around to see another boy, reclining lazily in one of the armchairs, with his elbow on the armrest, propping up his chin. His messy black hair partially obscured his cold, gray eyes, and his small, amused smile made Goro feel like a small prey animal being stalked by a large panther.

_ No.  _ He wasn’t prey, he was a goddamn weapon, and this kid wasn’t some apex predator, he was some house cat about to bite off more than he could chew. He applied as a solo weapon, and  _ dammit,  _ he was going to get through this stupid school as a solo weapon.

He turned to glare at Igor, who rested his arms on his desk. “Humor me?” he asked again.

Goro frowned and turned to the other boy - who, without Goro noticing, had stood up and closed the distance between them in the few seconds he wasn’t paying attention.

If any surprise showed on his face (which it probably did), the other boy either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Holding out his hand, the other boy said, “I’m Akira Kurusu.”

Goro sighed. This wasn’t how he imagined his first day going, and since the headmaster was watching, he supposed he should take it easy on this disheveled house cat. He could always overwhelm him with his soul wavelength tomorrow - make him cry and flee in fear like every other meister that had tried.

“... Goro Akechi,” he said stiffly before taking his hand.

_ … warm. He felt warm. _

Without even realizing it, he had switched to his laser saber form.

_ He had never met someone else like this - as soon as their souls came into contact, he felt like he had come home - _

_ Wait, what was he  _ doing?!  _ He didn’t need a meister, he didn’t need  _ anyone -

With a surge of anger (and a little bit of what he would never admit was embarrassment), Goro adjusted his wavelength, only intending on burning Akira’s hands a little, just enough for him to let go -

And that warm feeling came back.

As nice as this feeling was - no, this was not “nice,” this was “insulting,” he shouldn’t be feeling this way at all - he was letting Akira win, and damn if this stupid house cat could win against  _ him - _

Goro adjusted his wavelength more - now  _ this  _ level of distortion between wavelengths, this was enough to send normal people running -

And once again, Akira managed to match his wavelength.

_ This was goddamn infuriating - this pompous house cat thought he could keep up with him - well, screw the fact that Igor was watching, this house cat needed to g̴o̸ ̸A̴W̸A̴Y̶ _

Akira finally let go, and Goro’s sword form clattered unceremoniously on the ground. He switched back to his human form and got to his feet, dusting himself off. He glanced at Akira, expecting to see some hint of horror on that smug face of his - and found none. Instead, he looked curious and intrigued.

Oh, great.

Goro turned to Igor, expecting him to have sensed  _ something,  _ realized that he made a mistake and assigned this house cat a weapon far too dangerous for him to handle -

Igor nodded approvingly and reminded him, “One semester.”

* * *

Goro shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked, only half-listening to Akira as he gave a tour of DWMA. This whole situation was pissing him off: apparently, only weapons that couldn’t possibly be wielded effectively by a meister, like a guillotine, were allowed to immediately go solo. For weapons that could be used by a meister but chose to act alone, the headmaster always insisted that they spend their first semester trying to find a compatible meister. 

(Akira had also added that all weapons that took this route eventually found a meister, like that would somehow convince him to stay.)

“... and over there are the student dorms, but you don’t need to worry much about those, since you won’t be staying there,” Akira explained.

Goro sighed heavily. “Thank god, I don’t have to deal with a roommate.”

At this, Akira fell silent and started tugging at a strand of his hair. “Um … actually …”

_ (Oh god no.) _

Goro pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t tell me …”

Akira scratched the back of his neck. “If it makes you feel any better -”

“It won’t.”

“- it’s a two bedroom, so you’ll have your own room. But we share the living room and kitchen.”

Goro growled as he buried his face in his hands. “This whole weapon-meister shit is so pointless, why do I even -”

Akira folded his arms. “Why  _ do  _ you not want a meister?”

That knot in his stomach again -

_ (why did he always have such a visceral reaction to the idea of having a meister) _

A little more forcefully than he meant to, he snapped, “Because other people are useless! The only person I can depend on is me!”

With a small “oh,” Akira finally shut up for a minute. 

Now that he had some time to think without interruption, Goro recalled that Akira was in his second year, which meant that he  _ should  _ have a weapon partner, but for some reason, his apartment had a free room. Which meant …

Without so much as a hint of shame, he asked, “So, what happened to your weapon? You know, the one before me?”

Akira’s wavelength changed subtly (Goro would worry about how he knew that later) as he shifted his weight. “I, uh … I’m a special case …”

Goro scoffed. “‘Special?’”

As if responding to the sarcasm, Akira pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he continued, “I have this ability to sync my wavelength to almost any other weapon’s. Since not many people can do that, Igor decided to have me focus on training that by helping …  _ problem  _ weapons sync with a meister.”

Goro decided to ignore that insult as he considered his mixed feelings. On one hand,  _ if  _ he was going to have a meister, shouldn’t it be someone special? Someone truly unique?

_ (someone like him?) _

On the other hand, the knot in his stomach was twisting, as if someone was trying to vivisect him with a dull knife. No, there was a reason, a  _ very  _ important reason why he didn’t want a meister …

With a poisonous edge to his voice, Goro commented, “So … all those problem weapons and not a single one wanted to stay with you?”

Akira’s right eye twitched. As small as the reaction was, Goro felt satisfied that he had finally annoyed him.

With a huff, Akira motioned for Goro to follow him. “Let’s go, problem weapon. You need to unpack, don’t you?”

Goro folded his arms. “Don’t think you can order me around, you stupid house cat …”

* * *

Goro meant to avoid training with Akira for as long as possible, but unfortunately, he now attended a school where his grades depended on working with him. In the second week of school, they had a practical class - some combat practice against robots. This would be simple enough on his own, but of course, the assignment was to be completed with his meister. 

If it were any other teacher, Goro would have considered skipping, but Mitsuru Kirijo was the one teacher he didn’t want to cross.

He leaned against the wall in the observation room as he tried not to look at the pair currently trying to clear robots in the arena. They were supposed to be watching each other and learning from everyone’s mistakes, but  _ god,  _ watching these two was like receiving a botched icepick lobotomy. The blond vulgar boy was blindly swinging his weapon around, which would be great if he were wielding a mace or an axe, but his partner was a fucking  _ katana. _

The two of them were wiped out in a matter of minutes. Mitsuru rubbed her temples as the two of them limped back into the observation room, arguing with each other.

“- I  _ told  _ you, I’m not some hammer that you can smash things with!” the katana boy hissed.

The blond boy shrugged. “Maybe you have some hidden hammer mode or somethin’ - you never know unless you -”

Mitsuru cleared her throat, and the two boys fell silent, straightening their postures. “Sakamoto, Kitagawa, can you tell me what you did wrong?”

Under his breath, Goro sardonically answered, “Everything.”

Mitsuru shot him an icy glare. “I believe I was asking them, not you.”

The katana - what was his name again? Yusuke? - sighed and rolled his neck. “That was rude, but … he wasn’t wrong.”

The blond boy opened his mouth to try to argue, but instead sighed and slumped forward. “They’ve got a point …”

Mitsuru jotted something down on her clipboard as she curtly said, “You two - remedial lessons this Saturday. And Akechi -” She turned her attention to him. “Would you and Kurusu like to go next?”

Goro grunted in affirmation and started heading towards the arena entrance. When Akira tried to follow him, he simply knocked him back with a well-placed palm to the chest.

“Hey - Akechi -”

“Stay out of my way, house cat,” he snarled.

As the door closed, he heard him respond, “... problem weapon.”

_ Problem weapon? That prick was about to see just how much of a “problem weapon” he was … _

“Wuh - Akira, why’d you let him go?!” Ryuji asked once the door closed.

Mitsuru pursed her lips. “For once, I agree with Sakamoto. Kurusu, you understand that the assignment is -”

“- for weapons and meisters to clear the two robot waves,” Akira finished. “Kirijo-sensei, you never specified that we have to use our currently assigned partners. I’m perfectly capable of still passing this assignment.”

While a few people (namely, Futaba and Ryuji) chuckled at his loophole, Mitsuru was not amused. “Kurusu, completing this assignment _with your assigned partner_ is strongly implied." She clicked her pen furiously as she read over her grading and comment sheet. Sighing, she hissed, “Fine, I’ll let it slide this once. But next time, you’re working with Akechi or you’re failing.”

Akira folded his arms and nodded, turning his attention back to the arena. Ryuji slid in next to him and whispered, “No, seriously, why’d you let him go?”

Akira supposed he had a few reasons. For one, he was only able to keep up with his changing wavelength so easily because they were stationary; he wasn’t quite as adept at matching wavelengths while moving and being attacked. And if Goro tried …  _ whatever  _ that was that finally made him let go, they would both definitely be failing the assignment and taking remedial lessons. But if Akira had to guess what his top reason was for letting Goro go …

“... he keeps going on about how strong he is on his own,” he finally replied. “I want to see what he can do.”

Goro marched over to the starting area, taking deep breaths. This was his chance to prove to Akira that he didn’t need him - or anyone else, for that matter. 

Mitsuru’s voice echoed over the loudspeaker. “Are you ready? Three … two … one.”

As the first wave of robots emerged, Goro partially transformed - his left forearm turned into a serrated blade, while his right turned into a laser saber. These robots were moving fairly slowly - there was more than enough time to charge his wide-area laser saber attack. After a few seconds of concentrating, he swung his right arm in a wide arc, sending out a laser crescent that neatly cleaved every single robot in the first wave. 

No time to waste - he knew where the second wave of robots would enter the arena and took off. If he timed this right, he would get there as soon as the wave deployed - 

Damn - he was a little late - the doors closed, but the robots were still grouped together. With the right attack … He leapt up, aiming to land right in the middle of the robot cluster. Just before he landed, he drove his laser saber into the ground, creating a shockwave that took out most of the robots. With his serrated blade, he slashed through the remaining robots like he was cutting down stalks of wheat. He expected there to be at least some resistance, but his blade sliced through the robots like they were merely scraps of paper.

(He briefly debated talking to Mitsuru about the material used for the robots, but decided not to - of course he cut through them with ease, he was  _ that  _ powerful.)

Goro paused to catch his breath and scanned the arena; no one had yet to make it past the second wave, so he had no idea where the third wave would be -

The loudspeaker echoed again. “That’s the end of the assignment. Akechi, come back.”

Only two waves? Goro sighed and rotated his shoulders. Was this supposed to be a challenging assignment?

… if he was the first to complete both waves, what did that say for the rest of these pairs?

This  _ had  _ to be proof that he didn’t need a meister, right?

Goro was greeted with loud cheers (as he should) upon entering the observation room.

The blond boy from before bounced up to him and slapped him on the back. “Duuude!” he exclaimed. “I can’t believe that - you were all like -” He began slicing the air, making exaggerated battle cries in what seemed to be a positive impression of his fighting style. “Dude, it was awesome, and Kirijo-sensei says you have the best clear time so far!” he continued.

An exasperated Mitsuru clarified, “He has the  _ only  _ clear time so far, Sakamoto.”

The blond boy didn’t seem to hear their teacher and added, “And you did that alone?”

Goro couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face. He searched the room to look for Akira, who was still giving him that cold cat smile, like he knew something that Goro didn’t.

_ (that irritated him to no end) _

To drive the point home, Goro confirmed, “Yeah, I did that alone,  _ without  _ a meister.”

“But … why?” a soft voice asked.

The room fell silent as everyone turned to the girl that had spoken - the shy one (Goro believed her weapon form was a rapier) with red hair tied in a ponytail and glasses. Suddenly conscious of the fact that she was the center of attention, she tried to back away into the crowd, but was stopped by a shorter girl with orange hair (her meister?).

“C’mon, Sumi, didn’t you have something to say?” her meister whispered.

Still wringing her hands nervously, the rapier said, “You - you’re really powerful, that’s obvious, but … Akira’s a Wild Card, why would you not fight with him?”

Goro furrowed his brow.  _ Wild Card?  _ Now that was a new phrase. “What, pray tell, is a Wild Card?”

The rapier perked up. “Oh, he didn’t tell you? Well -”

“Hang on, Sumi,” Akira interrupted. His cat smile turned into a full Cheshire grin as he turned to make eye contact with Goro. “Let me show him.”

The new excitement in the room was palpable. Normally, Goro hated being locked out of the loop, but a little part of him was curious to see what would happen.

Now carrying himself with the air of an experienced commander, Akira called, “Yusuke. Ann. Let’s go.” The katana from earlier and another girl with large blonde pigtails eagerly followed him out the doors while the others remaining scrambled towards the observation window for a good viewing spot. Goro was content to stay in the back of the crowd, but having a little more information about what was about to happen couldn’t hurt. Now, where was that girl …?

Ah, there she was, right in front. He sidled through the crowd, expecting to have to butt heads with someone, but surprisingly, they parted ways for him, like they all wordlessly agreed that this was something he  _ had  _ to see. As he stepped next to her, he cleared his throat and asked, “So, this Wild Card thing …”

“Oh, yes!” she exclaimed. “So, I guess Akira didn’t really tell you about it?”

“... he told me that he had the ability to sync his wavelength with almost any other weapon’s.”

The girl beamed, as if she was letting him in on a major secret. “Well, that’s not all he can do. He can also match wavelengths to multiple weapons and sync them simultaneously in battle!”

For once, Goro was speechless. The house cat can  _ what? _

The girl bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement. “He can only manage two at a time right now, but still …!”

Goro turned his full attention to the arena, now more than a little invested in what his assigned meister could do (and maybe just a little irritated that he had kept this information from him). He, Yusuke, and Ann were already at the starting area, huddled together in what seemed like a strategy meeting. Mitsuru called for them to be ready, and they separated. Akira nodded at the both of them and held out his hands. They switched to their weapon forms, with Yusuke as a katana in his right hand, and Ann as a whip in his left. 

As a weapon, he couldn’t sense souls like meisters could, but even he could tell that their wavelengths and synchronization were stable - if he quieted his thoughts and concentrated hard enough, he could even feel the power emanating from them from up here.

“Three … two … one.”

Without missing a beat, Akira sprinted forward to meet the robot wave. Goro immediately began theorizing about his strategy: a katana and a whip - well, he had a little bit of reach with the whip, but he’d have to get up close and personal for the katana, and from what he saw earlier, Yusuke’s blade wasn’t sharp enough to cut through the robots.

Goro was proven wrong when Akira cut down an approaching robot without slowing down. He glanced sideways at the katana’s assigned meister, who was watching the battle with his jaw agape. Why those two were paired up, Goro would never know. Yusuke was clearly stronger in Akira’s hands.

_ (something in his chest seized as he thought that) _

He coughed in his elbow and shook it off. Whatever that was, it wasn’t important right now. Akira was within a few meters of the main cluster of robots. Was he going to slice through them? Use the whip to clear the way?

Instead, he lifted the now-glowing katana over his head and drove it into the ground. A wave of ice spread from that point, immobilizing all the robots.

_ “For real?!”  _ the blond boy shouted. “Dude - when was he going to tell me he had ice powers?!”

“Well, he was  _ going  _ to …” a girl with brown, fluffy hair explained meekly. “He hadn’t quite mastered it at the time, so he was going to train with Akira a little more.”

The blond boy slumped forward and pouted. “I can help him, too …”

That uncomfortable feeling struck in Goro’s chest again. He didn’t get it - he wasn’t being attacked, he didn’t have a cold, no one was asking him about meisters - what was wrong with him today?

Back in the arena, Akira beheaded the nearest robot and deftly caught the severed head with the whip. In one fluid motion, he swung the robot’s head around like an improvised morning star, destroying the rest of the frozen robots.

The rest of the room cheered, and a small part of Goro wanted to join in, but he squashed it down. It wasn’t over yet - sure, the second wave of robots was about as easy as the first, but … Akira was …

_ (he wasn’t that good, he  _ couldn’t  _ be that good - to drastically improve a weapon’s abilities so much - that  _ had  _ to be because this blond buffoon was doing something wrong) _

Goro’s chest tightened as the two weapons temporarily assumed their human forms to high-five Akira.

_ (and  _ why  _ did that keep happening to him?! it seemed like it was only happening when he thought about Kurusu using other weapons -) _

… oh no.

_ (no no no he can’t be jealous he  _ shouldn’t  _ be jealous of these two-bit weapons, just because they were in perfect sync with  _ him -  _ he was  _ not  _ jealous, not at all) _

The second wave of robots deployed, but Akira stayed right where he was, idly twirling the katana as if he were debating how best to dispatch these new foes. His head tilted towards the whip, as if Ann was whispering an idea. He nodded and once again plunged the katana blade into the ground, coating the area in ice.

_ Reusing moves? He supposed that Kurusu really was some one-trick pony … _

But instead of simply freezing the robots in place, he kept channeling the ice power, eventually freezing the entire arena and lowering the temperature so much that everyone started shivering in the observation room.

_ The fight should have been over the moment he immobilized the robots. What was he doing? _

It was then that Goro noticed that the whip was glowing a fiery red, and had been for most of the time Akira had spent channeling the ice.

_ Wait, a  _ fiery  _ red? No, was he about to …? _

With a flourish, Akira spun the whip (now on fire) above him in a wide circle. He kept spinning it, faster and faster, and the flames only grew larger.

_ Fire … and the air was already cold from the ice - if cold air is heated rapidly, then - _

Goro clamped his hands over his ears just in time - the resulting shockwave thundered through the arena, obliterating any remaining robots (and presumably causing some hearing damage for everyone else).

For a while, everyone fell silent; the only noises came from the shifting and melting ice and debris from the robots and the arena clattering to the ground. Everyone else was looking around at the sheer amount of damage that was done to the arena, but Goro couldn’t take his eyes off of Akira, standing proud and triumphant with a pair of glowing weapons.

_ (it should be  _ him  _ in his arms, not them) _

Goro shut his eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of his nose. These intrusive thoughts were becoming a real pain in the ass …

Mitsuru finally broke the stunned silence over the loudspeaker. “Kurusu, come back.”

Once again, the students’ re-entry was met with cheers. The weapons’ assigned meisters - the buffoon and some unremarkable girl with black hair in a ponytail - ran towards them and showered them with hugs, praise, and congratulations.

(Briefly, Goro thought about Akira greeting him the same way and promptly pushed the image to the back of his mind.)

Sighing, Goro turned around to retreat to the back of the room - and there he was, blocking his path as if he’d sensed his intrusive daydream and wanted to fulfill it (warm smile and all).

“Well?” Akira asked.

For once, Goro had no idea what to say (and the newfound emotions swimming around his head certainly weren’t helping matters). In what he hoped was a neutral voice, he said, “... well done.”

Akira arched one of his eyebrows.

He wanted more? Ugh. “... if a little over the top,” he added through clenched teeth.

Akira frowned, the coldness creeping back into his eyes. He grabbed his upper arm, leading him towards the edge of the room.

_ (how  _ dare  _ he) _

Goro distorted his wavelength, trying to get him to let go, but Akira held firm. In a moment, he let him go anyway, and hissed, “Akechi, what is wrong with you?”

The emotions that he tried to force down now boiled over, eroding at his composure. “I meant what I said,” he growled, using much more venom than he intended. “Did you really have to blow up the arena? Were you  _ that  _ desperate to show off?”

Akira was taken aback, but still refused to back down. “Okay, I was referring to you trying to distort your wavelength to force me to let go of you in the - what,  _ three seconds  _ it took to walk over here, but now that you’ve said that, are you  _ seriously  _ trying to call me a show-off after what  _ you  _ pulled?”

“It’s not my fault that all of the pairs here are incompetent.  _ Any  _ weapon worth their salt could do what I did!”

“I was  _ trying  _ to show you that any weapon can be better with a meister -”

“That might have worked if that buffoon wasn’t such a miserable meister in the first place! A  _ child  _ would make a better match for that katana than him!”

“Why are you so resistant to the idea of a meister?! You haven’t let me wield you, let alone  _ touch  _ you, since we first met!”

The knot twisted and Goro prepared to say something that an ordinary person might regret, but was interrupted by Mitsuru’s heel stomping next to them.

It was then that they realized that the rest of the room was dead silent, and probably had been for a while.

Mitsuru fixed them both with one of her famous icy glares. “You two. With me. Now.”

* * *

The two of them were quiet during the rather long walk from the arena to the main campus. Goro thought (more than once) that Mitsuru was personally escorting them to the headmaster, but she passed every single staircase and instead held open a classroom door, motioning for them to get in. They filed in obediently, and she shut the door, leaning against it.

“Neither of you are leaving this room until I see a stable synchronization,” she ordered. “Additionally, if you two manage to achieve Soul Resonance - or something close enough - I’ll change your grades from failing to passing.”

“‘Failing?!’” they both repeated.

“Yes, you two failed today’s assignment! The point of the exercise was to practice with your  _ assigned  _ partner!” Akira moved to interrupt, but Mitsuru snapped, “Kurusu, if you try to use that loophole again -”

Goro buried his face in his hands and debated, for the millionth time today, whether or not continuing at DWMA was worth it. He could go back to training on his own, getting stronger and stronger, until he eventually found  _ him  _ and gave him  _ exactly  _ what he deserved, and then …

… and then …?

… after  _ that,  _ the future was just … a blank space. A void. Nothingness.

… was that what he wanted?

The storm that was his mental state calmed enough for one last intrusive thought:

_ If he left … would he ever miss the warmth of Akira’s soul? _

He lifted his face and there he was again. His face was unreadable, as usual, but he thought he detected some softness in his eyes.

Still silent, Akira offered his hand, palm up.

Goro stared at it like the gesture offended him. “What are you doing?” he spat. “Just grab my arm - you’ll sync with whatever wavelength I choose and we can get this over with.”

Akira shook his head. “We’re partners, Akechi. You have a say in this too.”

“And what if I still say that I don’t want to work with a meister?”

“Akechi.” (Goro  _ really  _ wished he would stop saying his name like that.) “If that’s what you really want, I’ll take the failing grade and you can walk out that door and leave Death City and you’ll never have to see me again. But if there’s any part of you that wants to stay, I’d like you to take my hand and work with me.”

Goro curled his hands into fists to try to hide the fact that they were trembling, but that only made it worse. Hoping his voice wouldn’t waver, he insisted, “There is  _ no  _ part of me that wants to stay here with you.”

Akira lowered his hand and stepped forward into his personal space, whispering into his ear, “You know, when you match wavelengths with someone, you can sometimes feel what they’re feeling.”

_ (so, that feeling of finally coming home …?) _

Akira continued, leaning in so that his lips barely brushed against his ear. “We both know what you just said was a lie.”

He stepped back and offered his hand again. This time, Goro intended on taking it, but his hand froze mere inches above Akira’s, his fingers visibly trembling.

In that same, soft voice, he said, “... Goro. Please.”

… maybe he  _ should  _ stop denying that little part of himself. But if he was going to do this, he might as well do it right. 

Before he could think about what he was doing, he slipped off his gloves, letting them fall to the floor, and clasped Akira’s hand with both of his.

He smiled. “Your hands … they’re warm.”

_ This sensation of finally coming home after such a long time away … was that him feeling that? Or Akira? Feeling like he belonged - like no matter what he did, someone would always be here to welcome him back - like he’d never be alone again ... _

_ … was synchronizing with someone else always like this? _

_ “Goro, can you hear me?” _

_ Hm? Was that …? “Kurusu?” _

_ “Yeah. Are you okay?” _

_ “I’m fine. Actually … I’ve never felt better.” _

_ “That’s good. Just keep your wavelength steady.” _

To his surprise, Akira was having a hard time keeping his breathing even. Then again, who wouldn’t feel some sort of rush from the sheer amount of power he felt from the weapon in his hands? Igor was right - Goro was already powerful on his own, but he had so much untapped potential that the very thought was making Akira dizzy.

As soon as he made sure that there wouldn’t be any sudden wavelength distortions, he studied the laser saber. Goro only ever seemed to use this form for wide-area attacks - what was the minimum range? He stepped back with his left foot, bending his knees slightly into a fencing stance. He slashed the air experimentally -

And a chair, about two feet in front of him, fell apart, sliced cleanly into two pieces.

Akira grimaced and looked to Mitsuru, saying, “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to -”

Mitsuru shrugged. “We have a lot of spare desks and chairs. As long as you don’t break any of the walls, I don’t think Igor will mind.”

Akira nodded and turned the laser saber over in his hand. Okay, so even at close range, this was still usable. As much as he wanted to try to directly cut a table in half with this saber, he decided to keep collateral damage to a minimum.

“Hey, are you still okay?” he asked.

_ “Yes, I am. Are … are you?” _

For some reason, Akira pictured Goro blushing as he said that (and then prayed that Goro couldn’t sense any of his follow-up thoughts on that image). “Of course. Do you mind switching to your other form for a bit?”

_ “Not a problem.” _

In a flash of red and white light, the laser saber was replaced with the serrated blade. Akira spun it in his hands, trying to get a feel for it - and was surprised to see the blade keep spinning. Actually, he wasn’t even doing anything: the blade rotated around his open hand of its own accord.

_ “Ah!” _

The blade stopped, snapping back into his hand.

_ “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to -” _

“No, no, you’re fine.” Akira took a moment to try to catch his breath, which was proving difficult since his heart was racing so fast. A weapon, equipped by a meister, moving without any external force applied ... he had heard about the sensation, of course - most of the older meister-weapon partners could achieve it with no problem - but this was the first time he had experienced it. Theoretically, as long as he could maintain their synchronization ...

“Hey … can you do that again?”

_ “... gladly.” _

With a flick of his wrist, Akira spun the blade around his hand, and Goro kept the momentum going. He meant to see just how long he could keep this up, but the longer he and Goro remained synchronized, the happier he became.

(... happier? Was this something he should be feeling?)

Before he realized what he was doing, he was twirling the blade around with the expertise of a performer, even tossing it between his hands. He must have looked like a fool, doing what felt like some choreographed dance with his weapon, but he was so high on the euphoria from their shared synchronization that he didn’t care. Goro didn’t seem to mind, either; the blade added little flourishes of its own, and their wavelength was holding steady, resonating even -

And in a flash of light, he had an ornate pistol in his hand instead of the serrated blade.

Slowly, Akira cradled the new weapon and studied it. It was plated with gold and silver, with a small pair of decorative angel wings near the grip.

“Goro? You didn’t tell me you had a gun form.”

_ “... I didn’t know.” _

A sudden clapping startled both of them, and Goro abruptly returned to his human form, flushed and certainly looking like he had been dancing for the past few minutes. Mitsuru approached them with a smile on her face, still applauding. “Good work, you two,” she commended. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful Soul Resonance.”

Akira blinked. “Wait, a Soul Resonance? But … I wasn’t trying to …”

Goro turned towards him. “You weren’t?”

Mitsuru hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps you two were able to resonate naturally. From what I could see of your souls, that gun form is indeed your shared Soul Resonance technique.” She scribbled something on her clipboard before turning to leave the room. “Your grades have been adjusted. I look forward to seeing that form in the next lesson.” The door opened and closed, leaving the two of them alone.

Goro was the first to speak. “Are you okay, Kurusu?”

Akira couldn’t help but chuckle. “Of course I am, are you kidding? That was - I mean …”

He couldn’t exactly find the words to describe his experience, but in retrospect, he didn’t need to - through their synchronization, Goro surely felt what he had felt.

With a smile and a faint blush across his cheeks, Goro affirmed his unspoken words by squeezing his hand.

It was then that Akira realized that they were still holding hands.

… not that he minded.


	2. a bond called "eternity"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro learns a little about Akira as they prepare for a major mock battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left kudos or commented <3

As the weeks turned into months, Goro was slowly willing to admit that maybe,  _ just  _ maybe, having a meister wasn’t all that bad. When he was training with Akira, he never felt happier - or more powerful. Despite his new gun form looking more like a pistol, it fired with all the force of a railgun. After the first few times, it was clear that they didn’t need to work on increasing the power of the shots; rather, they had to start figuring out how to mitigate the knockback.

(The first time they actually used the form, Akira was thrown backwards into a brick wall. Goro never let him forget it.)

It wasn’t long until Goro begrudgingly acknowledged that, without Akira, he would have gone the rest of his life without knowing he possessed such a form. It took him a little longer to realize that since it was a Soul Resonance technique, there was no way for him to use it on his own.

(He  _ could  _ try to use it with another meister, of course, but at this point, he couldn’t imagine nor accept anyone else but Akira being his meister.)

In short, Goro’s life at DWMA with Akira would be absolutely perfect … if only his meister wasn’t a Wild Card.

It turned out that there was a reason that he and Akira were grouped with such miserable pairs: it was his collection of “problem” weapons and meisters who, for one reason or another, needed extra wavelength synchronization training. Whenever one of them would call Akira for help, Goro’s mood would sour for the rest of the day. Since he was also friends with his problem children (for some reason), they usually spent time together after their training sessions, which, to Goro, usually meant dinner alone and stewing in his own negative emotions as he waited for him to come home.

Sure, Akira always asked if he wanted to come with, but Goro always declined. His friends didn’t like him for refusing to sugarcoat their shortcomings, and he didn’t like them for stealing so much of Akira’s time.

As he resigned himself to another lonely Saturday afternoon, Goro’s phone pinged, and he grimaced as he dragged his phone closer to him. If Akira tried to talk him into going to the shopping district with Ann and Shiho _one more time ..._

Fortunately, his spirits lifted slightly as he actually read the text.

_ Hey, meet me for training today? Just outside the city gate. _

He sent a quick reply and gathered his things. Fortunately, it seemed Akira hadn’t noticed how he really felt about his collection of failures, and it wasn’t affecting their wavelength synchronization at all, so there was no need to worry.

Akira was getting really worried about Goro. When he got his reply, he sighed in relief.

Over the last few training sessions, he had sensed something wrong whenever they matched wavelengths - not  _ wrong  _ like what happened when they first met, but some small pain that he just knew would develop into a serious problem if he didn’t take care of it now.

And speaking of, he still had no idea what the  _ hell  _ that was when they met. If it was just a mismatched wavelength, he could still sync with it with no issues, but for a moment, it felt like he was being plunged into a dark ocean, with all the air sucked out of his lungs. Goro’s application profile wasn’t any help, either: he and Igor were able to track down his mother (a meister and a DWMA alumnus, but she had passed away several years ago), but he listed his father as “unknown,” and Igor was still trying to track down any information on him. His weapon lineage was most definitely from him, and maybe he knew something about that weird dark ocean.

There wasn’t any time to think about that now, though - he decided to focus on the thing he  _ could  _ fix. And hopefully, Goro wouldn’t get … temperamental about it.

But if he did, well - there was a reason why Akira chose to train outside the city.

He didn’t have to wait long; in a few minutes, Goro showed up, doubled over and panting as if he had gotten the text and promptly sprinted across town.

“Kurusu - I … I’m a little late, I’m sorry -” he wheezed, still trying to catch his breath.

“It’s okay. This wasn’t urgent or anything,” he reassured him, handing him a water bottle. “Not sure why you ran …”

“I … uh …” As Goro took the water bottle and dropped his gaze to the ground, Akira suddenly wondered how much of the red in his face was from running. “It’s … uh …” he continued to stammer. “I just … wanted to warm up on the way here.”

There was something he wasn’t telling him. No matter - he’d probably find it during their synchronization. He held out his hand, saying, “Whenever you’re ready.”

With a smile that had no right to be as absolutely radiant as it was, Goro took his hand, enveloping both of them in the familiarity of each other’s wavelengths. Akira didn’t feel anything wrong … yet. 

_ “What are we working on today? The resonance form?” _

Still nothing wrong. If anything, Goro was brimming with energy and excitement. “Haven’t decided yet. Let me warm up a little.”

As Akira slashed the air with the laser saber and practiced his footwork, he closely monitored his weapon’s wavelength. It was holding steady so far - honestly, if this kept up, they’d end up resonating naturally again - maybe he was imagining things -

“Hey! Akira!” a familiar voice called.

A sudden distortion in Goro’s wavelength jolted him out of his groove, almost resulting in a twisted ankle and a nasty faceplant.

“Oh no - I’m sorry!” Makoto ran towards him, followed closely by her weapon partner, Haru. She knelt down, inspecting his ankle. “I didn’t mean to distract you …”

_ (more distortions from Goro - was he really -?) _

“Makoto, I’m fine, don’t worry,” he reassured her as he rotated his ankle. “You two working on something today?”

Haru nodded, bouncing in place. “This is one of the only places we can work on our resonance technique!” she chirped happily, as if Akira didn’t already know that their technique involved firing a barrage of rockets at their opponent.

“Would you like to spar afterwards?” Makoto asked. “I can call Iori-sensei down, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind officiating -”

Despite his best efforts to re-sync with Goro’s increasingly chaotic wavelength, the distortion was becoming too much; a sharp pain shot up his arm and he was unable to stifle the resulting cry.

Haru frowned. “Akira, are you okay?”

Goro’s soul was feeling less like home and more like being skewered with razor blades while drowning in a lake of lava. With great difficulty, Akira nodded and started hobbling away, saying, “I’m fine, I’m fine - just need to - take care of stuff - on my own, with - ow! Just do your training, don’t follow me -”

Haru stepped forward, clearly intending on following him anyway, but Makoto placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t what we came here for, Haru. Let’s go - you know we need some distance before practicing.”

_ (that’s good - Makoto was always a quick study) _

As soon as they were out of sight, Akira let go of Goro with a strained cry. His weapon switched back to his human form, with an odd mixture of worry and impenitence on his face. Frowning a carefully crafted frown, Goro asked, “Kurusu, are you okay -”

“Are  _ you  _ okay?” he cried, still gritting his teeth from the residual pain in his arm. He yanked back his sleeve, making sure that there weren’t any mysterious new burns or wounds, but no - there were just the usual scars and old bruises that came with handling weapons. “Holy  _ shit,  _ that hurt …”

Goro still looked like an unreadable, conflicted mess. “I … Kurusu, I …” he trailed off. 

_ What was he about to say? “I’m sorry?” “I’m  _ not  _ sorry?” Honestly, both seemed equally likely at this point. _

Akira sighed as he rotated his shoulder. “Okay, change of plans. Come with me.”

Goro’s face changed subtly, as if his mask of indifference slipped, partially revealing his true feelings. “I can keep training, it’s okay -”

Akira shook his head and gently took Goro’s hand. “Don’t worry, this is still training.”

A few minutes later, they were sitting on a bench in a park. Goro looked … less than amused. He drummed his fingers on his lap before commenting, “So, taking leisurely strolls through town is training, huh?”

Without hesitation, Akira replied, “Yup.” At Goro’s incredulous look, he continued, “Look, with a meister, not all training is combat-related. If …  _ whatever  _ happened earlier happened during a battle, we’d be dead. Goro, is something wrong?”

Goro’s lips thinned as his grip tightened on his knees. “No, nothing’s wrong,” he lied.

Akira closed his eyes and sighed. “Please don’t lie to me. I’ll ask you one more time before I start guessing - and you know I know your soul, so I have some pretty good guesses. Is something wrong?”

A little more forcefully, Goro repeated, “Nothing’s. Wrong.”

Akira frowned; at least he tried to give him one more chance. Now to go down the list of guesses, starting with the most probable - “Goro, are you jealous of the other weapons I’m working with?”

He was almost floored by a violent wavelength and, judging from the small yelps, so was every kid currently at the park. There was no need to use soul perception; Goro radiated an angry, almost murderous aura.

Akira had been  _ really  _ hoping it wasn’t this. Trying to choose his words carefully, he said, “Look … it’s okay …”

“No, it’s not,” Goro growled, unintentionally sending out a pulse of malice. “Why do you have to be a  _stupid_ Wild Card, why do you  _ have  _ to work on that damn ability, why do you need an  _ armory  _ of rejects when you have  _ me -” _

“Goro -”

He was shaking now, and it seemed as if his spreading malevolence had chased off everyone within the general vicinity. “Am I not good enough for you, is that it?! Not powerful enough?! Why …” (Akira sensed the tiniest change in his wavelength, something small and sad, maybe he could -) “Why would you need anyone else -”

Akira took a chance and lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Goro and resting his head on his shoulder. At the same time, he projected his wavelength - his true feelings - hoping that Goro would pick up on it and calm down. If he could just impart how much of a comforting and important presence Goro had become in his life …

Slowly but surely, Akira felt the distortions ebb away. Goro’s soul had calmed down, almost welcoming him home, but it was still enveloped in a palpable sadness stemming from one single question:  _ “Am I not enough?” _

He tilted his head and whispered in his ear, “Goro, you are  _ more  _ than enough. If I were just a regular meister, I …” But he  _ wasn’t  _ a regular meister, he didn’t  _ choose  _ to have this potential -

Bitterly, Akira admitted, “… do you think I  _ wanted  _ to be a Wild Card?”

In a small, lost voice, Goro asked, “You … what?”

Reluctantly, Akira separated from him but made sure to rest his hand on his. “Can you answer a question of mine first? I promise I’ll answer yours.”

Goro lowered his eyes and squeezed Akira’s hand. “... okay.”

_ (alright, if he could ask any one question that would give him a better understanding of Goro Akechi ...) _

“... the day we met, you said that your goal was to become the most powerful weapon on your own. Why?”

Goro’s wavelength changed instantly: dark, murky, and vaguely threatening. In a low growl, he said, “There’s …  _ someone  _ I need to find and … take care of. He … I …” He paused and furrowed his brow, as if he were trying to remember something. Eventually, he sighed and shook his head. “My reasons are quite personal. I’m sorry.”

Akira nodded, mulling over this new information. That  _ someone  _ Goro wanted to fight - did they have a hand in his mother’s death? Officially, it was a hemorrhagic stroke, but could it have been foul play? “That’s fine. So, you wanted to get stronger to challenge someone?”

“Yes. And what about you?” Goro’s demeanor changed completely; the previous darkness clouding his soul had all but faded away, and he leaned forward, eyeing Akira curiously. “You said you didn’t want to be a Wild Card?”

It was Akira’s turn to feel a little uncomfortable. He had never actually told anyone about this - not the rest of his friends, and definitely not Igor. He tugged at a strand of his hair before starting, “When I applied to DWMA, I just wanted a normal life. Well … as normal as a meister’s life can be, anyway. But a few days in, Igor pulled me aside - told me that he maybe saw some special potential in me. He had me sync with a few weapons, and that’s when he asked me to start developing the ability. But even after a year, I’m still not very good at it.”

Goro blinked. “What’s wrong with that? You were pulled aside and told that you were special by the headmaster himself. That Wild Card ability is unique to you, and not developing it means squandering your own potential.”

_ Heh. Unique to him, huh? _

Akira shook his head. “I can only sync with two weapons at a time, and maintaining that synchronization only gets more difficult the longer the fight goes on. If I don’t wrap up the battle quickly, I’m a sitting duck. I should be able to do better, improve more, but … I never feel like I do. I just … can’t help but compare myself ...”

Goro frowned. “Kurusu, that’s nonsense. Who in the world could you possibly compare yourself to?”

Akira sighed and checked the time. If they hurried, they could probably still see part of it … Maybe if Goro saw them too, he would understand him a little more.

Akira rose to his feet and tugged at Goro’s arm. “One more stop? It’s the last one, I promise.”

Goro pouted, but followed suit anyway. “Are you sure you’re not trying to avoid the question?”

He smiled wanly. “If anything, this will  _ answer  _ the question.”

* * *

Revenge on his father was his entire reason for being. He had devoted the rest of his life to the effort; every training session, every improvement - it was all to take down his shitty father. 

Why, then, could Goro not remember what happened?

His father walked out, leaving him and his mother to fend for themselves - that alone was reason enough to find the man and beat him in a dark alley. But there was something else that happened, Goro was absolutely sure - but when he tried recalling it, he couldn’t. It was as if that particular memory was locked away in a secret room in his mind, and the longer he searched for it, the more he felt that it would be for the best if it were never found.

Well, he could introspect later - more importantly, something was wrong with Akira. Even if he wasn’t in weapon form, he could still sense a little of his meister’s soul if they were in contact (which they were; he had entwined their fingers together and was gripping rather tightly). Weak, brittle, small … these were not things that Akira should be feeling.

These were not things that Goro saw when he looked at him.

Soon, they had arrived at the outskirts of the city once more. Haru and Makoto were long gone, but there was another gathering of people not far from the entrance to the city. They were clumped into three groups: two of them appeared to be comprised of older students (or perhaps graduates?), and the third group contained Igor and two of his assistants, clad in their signature velvet blue.

_ Wait, the headmaster is here? And over there - there’s Kirijo-sensei and Iori-sensei … _

Goro blinked. “Kurusu, I don’t understand. Is this a … staff meeting? Some practice skirmish? Does this have anything to do with Central Intelligence training?”

Akira’s right eye twitched. “... you could say that it’s a practice skirmish of sorts.”

Goro folded his arms as he tried to assess the situation. There were quite the number of pairs here … even if a few of the meisters had the ability to dual wield, this was still a large amount of bodies to keep track of. Perhaps that’s why Igor and his assistants were officiating?

A man with blue hair partially obscuring his face marched out of his group, stopping in the middle of the rough triangle that the groups had created. In response, a taller man with silver hair from the other cluster moved forward to meet him. They shook hands, and everyone else stood a little bit straighter.

Even though there was zero chance of them hearing, Goro still leaned over and whispered, “They look important. Who are they?”

With a bit of an edge to his voice, Akira replied, “Blue hair is Minato Arisato. Silver hair is Yu Narukami.”

The two men turned around and marched back to their groups. Yu motioned for a few people to come forward, and three people rushed towards him. Goro almost thought that they would tackle him, but at the last minute, they all changed into their weapon forms: a shield, a kunai, and a fan. The rest of their group retreated to a safe distance.

_ Wait … did he count that right? One, two, three …  _

As Yu struggled to attach the shield to his arm so that he had both of his hands free for the fan and kunai, Minato stopped a few feet from his group and held out his hand. Three people approached him, switching into their weapon forms - a bow, an axe, and a spear. 

_ Well, that was unfortunate for him - Minato didn’t have enough arms to properly wield all of those - _

The three weapons hovered in the air, encircling Minato as he turned back towards Yu. He tilted his head, as if he were debating which weapon to use, and then grabbed the bow. The axe and spear remained in orbit around him.

Goro’s hands were shaking. Three. Both of them were synchronizing with  _ three  _ weapons. He turned to Akira, who looked paler than usual.

As if sensing his unspoken question, Akira murmured, “I am not the only Wild Card.”

With a hand signal from Igor, the duel began.

Even though they were quite a distance away, every strike and clash of the dueling Wild Cards sent out a shockwave that almost knocked them over. Goro had never seen power of this magnitude before; with two of his weapons hovering freely around him, Minato was able to attack and defend in ways that Goro had previously considered impossible, and even though Yu hadn’t quite mastered this “floating weapon” business, every single one of his strikes and bashes felt like they could shatter an ordinary man.

_ “Who in the world could you possibly compare yourself to?” _

Goro felt sick. He wanted to take back his earlier words and stuff them down a garbage compactor. Akira’s display with Yusuke and Ann was impressive (if flashy), but next to these two, he was a child drawing with crayons. If it were him in Akira’s shoes, would he really have been okay, knowing that  _ this  _ was what he had to live up to?

Unaffected by the display of strength in front of him, Akira explained, “We do this a lot. Or, rather,  _ they  _ do this a lot. A Wild Card’s a tough opponent, so we - they - have practice duels every so often.”

“... you said ‘we.’ Do you do this, too?”

Akira tugged at his hair. “Igor asks them to challenge me to duels every once in a while, to see how I’m progressing. Even though I use two weapons, I don’t make it out without some broken bones, while they handicap themselves by using only one.” His voice started wavering, as if he were holding back frustrated tears. “And every semester, there’s one three-way battle, but it might as well be a duel between them ... ”

Goro had enough of this; no words could describe how much he  _ hated  _ seeing Akira like this. “Kurusu,” he interrupted, taking his hand. “Let’s go somewhere else, okay?”

It didn’t take Goro long to realize that he had no idea what to do to make Akira feel better. The only idea he had was taking him to his favorite coffee shop and hoping that his usual drink and assorted treats could comfort him better than he could. Unfortunately, it seemed that Akira had no energy or drive to do anything except watch the pattern on his latte fade away.

Finally, Akira shifted to take a sip of his now lukewarm coffee. “Goro …”

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Kurusu, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried, I -”

Akira shook his head as his wan smile returned. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I showed you their duel for a reason. I just …” He trailed off and shook his head, taking another sip of coffee. “When I see them fighting at full power like that, it just … feels like I’ll never be able to catch up.”

Goro reached across the table and rested his hand on top of Akira’s. “Kurusu …”

“If I just  _ think  _ about it, it makes perfect sense,” he continued. “Arisato’s been at this for  _ years -  _ he’s Igor's top agent for a reason - and Narukami graduated from the academy last year. I’m still in school - still training and getting this figured out - it makes sense that I’m not on their level, but …”

Goro nodded solemnly, letting the words fade into dust. He knew the feeling all too well. Sure, with his solitary life before DWMA, he didn’t really have anyone to compare himself to, but constantly feeling like he wasn’t enough and the fear that he might not be strong enough to reach his goals - those tailed him as closely as his shadow. It was a part of him now, so he didn’t mind, but seeing it in Akira ...

If only there was some way to ensure that his meister would never feel that way again …

_ Ah. _

Goro squeezed Akira’s hand. “Hey, sorry to bring it back up, but you said that there was a three-way battle every semester?”

Akira nodded wearily. “Right now, it’s scheduled for next month. I, uh …” He rotated his wrist to interlock their fingers. “I want to bring you. I really do - you’re the most powerful weapon I’ve ever come across …”

The praise made Goro’s heart soar, but the way he trailed off … “What is it?”

Akira lowered his gaze. “... but I need to have two weapons. Standard Wild Card fight rule. I tried asking everyone, but … you know, with how you treat them, none of the other weapons really like you. I tried inviting you out to get to know them better, but you were always busy.”

_ … oh. So  _ that’s  _ what that was all about … _

Akira continued, “The only one who would even consider it was Sumi. She’s the one with red hair and glasses -”

“The rapier, right,” Goro finished. He bit his lip, lost in thought. If Sumire was his only option … he’d only seen her in combat briefly, and her abilities weren’t anything to write home about. If only he could convince someone like Haru or Yusuke … No, they were certainly the most powerful of the bunch, but what was most important here was Akira’s ability to maintain the synchronization. If Sumire really was willing to cooperate … this could work.

Of  _ course  _ he wanted to win the fight; he was giddy at the thought of overcoming such mighty opponents. But the thought of seeing Akira’s smile after their glorious triumph … well, that wasn’t a bad prize, either.

* * *

Akira glanced up at the sky; not a cloud in sight, and the lightest breeze blew through Death City. No chances of inclement weather whatsoever; it really was a good day for a Wild Card battle. He turned back to Goro and Sumire, who were trying to calm their nerves in their own ways. “Let’s go, guys,” he called. Both of them nodded and followed him.

As the three of them marched down to the outskirts of the city, Akira asked, “You guys doing okay?”

Goro nodded, even though Akira could feel anxiety in his wavelength. “Never better.”

Sumire, however, was visibly shaking. “I, uh - I’m fine, too! Just - just peachy!”

Akira sighed and moved to wrap his arm around her shoulders. “Sumi …”

“I’m sorry!” she whimpered. “It’s just - this is my first time against  _ them  _ \- I’m scared that we’re gonna lose, and it’ll be my fault …”

Akira squeezed her shoulders. “Sumi, it’s fine.”

To their surprise, Goro moved to Sumire’s other side and smiled at her. “Hey, what did we talk about? If you think you’re gonna lose before the battle’s even started …”

“... then you’ve already lost,” Sumire finished. She curled her hands into fists and jumped in place, throwing a few punches against an imaginary opponent. “Okay, let’s go and do this!”

Goro patted her head gently. “There we go.”

With a newfound energy, Sumire skipped ahead a few steps, her cheeks still slightly pink from Goro’s unexpected gesture. Akira couldn’t help but smile.

He leaned over to him and whispered, “Are you finally growing a heart, Goro?”

He pouted and looked away, trying to hide the blush spreading across his face. “No! I mean - I - just -” He folded his arms and huffed. “I had to encourage her somehow …”

Akira smirked and ruffled his hair. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

Sumire, who was now several yards in front of them, turned around and waved her arms. “Come on, guys!”

They nodded and quickened their pace to meet her. 

Surprisingly, Akira felt on top of the world - like no matter what happened today, he would still be happy. He glanced at Goro, who was teasing Sumire, and wondered if he was the reason for that.

As promised, the rest of Akira’s friends showed up to spectate - a safe distance away, of course. They talked and gossiped as usual while they waited for Igor and his assistants to arrive, but the underlying tension in the air was palpable. Futaba especially couldn't stay still, but that was natural - Akira had taken Sumire into the fight, after all. And she was with that high-and-mighty royal asshole.

_ (even though he was nowhere near her, she almost  _ heard  _ Akira telling her to be nicer to him) _

She tried - they all did - but Goro Akechi was a prickly little … prick. He never had anything nice to say, and Ryuji kept theorizing that he wanted Akira all to himself. 

But there was something else - something Futaba was almost afraid to mention. 

Among the meisters in their group, her sense of soul perception was the strongest. She didn't know if anyone else could see it, but there was something …  _ wrong  _ deep in Goro's soul. She trusted Akira to keep himself safe around this unknown threat, but if Sumire ended up getting hurt during the synchronization, she would never forgive this outsider. 

Ryuji lightly tapped her shoulder. "So, how are the matchups so far?" At his words, all other conversations died off as everyone else gathered closer. 

"Hm …" Futaba took a moment to concentrate; not too far away, she saw Akira's soul, colors and wavelength shifting around to better sync with his weapons, reaching out to Sumire's gentle pink soul and Goro's standoffish scarlet soul (and deep in its core swirled that dark  _ something) _ . It seemed like they were working on their synchronization before the fight, and …

"Wow, they're actually holding pretty steady," Futaba commented. "He's … actually trying to work with them."

"Huh." Ann scratched her head. "So he can get along with someone that isn’t Akira ... Then again, they've been training non-stop for the last month, haven't they?"

Makoto hummed thoughtfully. "Have Narukami and Arisato picked their weapons?" 

In the distance, Futaba saw two more clusters of synchronizing souls. She wasn't too familiar with Minato's and Yu's pool of weapons, but if she concentrated hard enough …

"It looks like … Narukami's got Hanamura -"

"As usual," Shiho commented.

"And … is that Tatsumi?" 

"Oh, he has the shield this round!" Haru chirped. "I must have really made an impact on him last time!"

Everyone fell silent as they recalled the last three-way battle - specifically, how Haru, in her axe form, nearly shattered two of Yu’s ribs with one blow.

Futaba cleared her throat. "Anyway ... Arisato looks like he's got … Aragaki and … wait, is that Ken Amada?!"

"Whoa, are we talking about the same Ken that beat Makoto for class rep?!" Ryuji exclaimed. He turned to Makoto, gesturing wildly. "I thought you said he was a weird loner with a dog!"

Yusuke rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder how he and Arisato know each other …"

Ann gasped. “Guys - Igor’s here!”

The anxious atmosphere returned as they all quietly watched Igor and his two assistants take their places near the edge of the improvised battlefield. All three Wild Cards stood poised, watching Igor. The headmaster smiled and lifted his hand.

“Ready?” he called. Igor gave the signal, and the battle began.


	3. if you shout for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go sideways at the Wild Card mock battle. (cw: blood)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for kudos and comments <3 Last chapter should be up in a few days!

Immediately, the other two combatants threw their projectiles at Akira - and somehow, he deflected both the spear and the kunai with the rapier in his left hand.

Ryuji whistled. “Damn, good move on his part - they gotta get past him to get their weapons back -”

Minato ran towards Akira, holding out his hand. As if in response, Ken transformed back into his human form and kicked at Akira’s legs, trying to throw him off-balance. Akira swiped at him with the laser saber; it didn’t make contact, but there was a new wound across Ken’s chest. He scrambled backwards, trying to close the distance between him and Minato so he could transform back into his full weapon mode.

Yosuke, too, was now in human form and transformed his right hand into his kunai blade, swiping at Akira. Goro switched to his serrated blade form as Akira raised him to block; the kunai got caught in the sawtooth edge. While Yosuke was occupied, the hilt on Sumire's rapier form started glowing. With a small flourish, Akira pointed the tip of the rapier in his opponent's direction and turned away. The glow at the hilt pulsed up to the tip of the rapier and flashed brightly, and Yosuke fell backwards, covering his eyes.

Haru placed a hand on Futaba's shoulder. "I guess Akira figured out a new technique with Sumi!"

However, Akira had been so focused on Yosuke that he didn't notice Yu charging at him until it was almost too late. And after checking Ken's wound, Minato was ready to return to the battle.

They needed an escape plan, something to turn the tables -

Their response was quick and fluid, as if they had endlessly rehearsed for this exact scenario - Akira dropped Sumire, who switched to human form and wrapped her arms tightly around his middle. In that same instant, he and Goro’s souls resonated, changing Goro’s weapon form -

“Wait, he’s a _gun,_ too?!” Ann screamed.

Akira aimed his gun at - wait, he was aiming it at the _ground -_

He pulled the trigger, and suddenly, he was in the sky, with a large dust cloud where he previously was. 

“Shit - why’d they have to be fighting in a _desert_ -” Ryuji cursed. “Futaba, see anything?”

As quickly as she could, Futaba pulled on her goggles and focused. “They’ve definitely both been knocked away - it looks like Arisato still has Ken and Aragaki, and Narukami has Tatsumi, but I can’t find Hanamura anywhere -”

Akira fired again, this time aiming for Yu’s general direction. From the echoing metallic _clang_ and a scream of pain immediately following, it seemed like Yu had tried blocking the shot with Kanji, but the gunshot was more powerful than either of them anticipated.

“How _strong_ are Akechi’s shots?” Makoto breathed.

“And why is Sumire not in weapon form?” Shiho wondered aloud, pointing to Akira and Sumire, who were desperately clinging to each other in free-fall.

Futaba squinted at the figures in the air, scanning their souls before explaining, “That gun form’s gotta be Akechi’s resonance technique with Akira - he can’t use it if he’s syncing with Sumi, too.”

Akira fired at the ground a few more times, but it seemed none of the shots connected with Minato. Well, that didn’t make sense - Akira was a meister, too, so he should be able to use soul perception to locate him -

_Unless that wasn’t his goal …_

Now that Futaba had gotten used to the chaotic battlefield, she realized that Akira was firing at the ground for two reasons: one, to maintain the dust cover (weapons couldn’t sense souls as well as meisters could, and with Yu possibly injured from Goro’s earlier shot, Yosuke had to go find him - which was difficult in a cloud of sand), and two, he was using the knockback from the shots to move around in mid-air - something that neither Minato nor Yu could do. But resonance techniques couldn’t be used indefinitely, and Futaba could see that Akira’s wavelength was weakening.

They had to land soon.

Not long after, Akira’s feet touched the ground, and in that moment, Minato made his move. The older meister emerged from the dust cloud, swinging his axe in a large arc. With Akira exhausted from using the resonance technique, he barely got Sumire into his hand in time to try to defend against the attack - 

However, he was still trying to defend against a full-power axe swing with two relatively thin swords. Although the axe’s blade never reached him, he was knocked back by the force of the blow. Akira hit the ground hard, coughing up blood and losing his grip on both of his weapons. 

Stoic expression unchanged, Minato threw his spear at Akira’s prone form. There was no way he could dodge this -

Goro dashed in front of Akira, turning his forearms into his twin blades to deflect the attack. Futaba could almost _feel_ his anger from here.

_Wait …_

She tapped into her soul perception to make sure; Goro’s soul was distorted with rage, and that dark little something was _growing._

This wasn’t good.

* * *

Akira quietly cursed. _Now? Of all times?_

That horrible distortion he felt on the day he met Goro - it was back. If he let this continue, someone would definitely get hurt.

While Goro kept Minato occupied, Akira dashed back to pick up Sumire.

“Sumi! Sumi, are you alright?” he whispered.

_“I’m okay, pretty sure - but Akechi - something’s wrong with him, I can feel it from here -”_

Akira glanced back; Goro was actually doing a good job at keeping Minato at bay, and the older meister actually looked uneasy. Goro probably thought that he was strong enough to beat him back and that was why his eyes were wide with fear, but Akira knew better: Minato was actually focusing entirely on defense out of caution due to sensing Goro’s mysterious, murderous wavelength.

Akira suddenly recalled that one afternoon, when he managed to calm Goro’s wavelength using his own. There was no telling if it would work on this unusual distortion, but … “Sumi, I have an idea, but it involves trying to sync with Goro.”

_“What?! Akira, are you sure?”_

“Trust me, please. It’s just like trying to resonate - just reach out with your wavelength. I don’t think I can reach him with mine alone.”

A moment of silence. Then …

_“... I trust you. Let’s do this.”_

Akira charged up Sumire's flash attack as he called, “Arisato! Let me handle this - find Narukami!”

Mutely, Minato nodded and retreated into the clearing sand cloud. Goro tried to follow him, but Akira used Sumire's flash attack to disorient him. Goro would hate him for this later, but he could deal with that when the time came. When Akira grabbed his upper arm, he switched into his weapon form, but this sensation - it wasn’t quite as suffocating as the dark ocean he had seen before, but it was still highly unpleasant.

 _“Kurusu, what are you_ doing?! _He’s escaping - we can get him - come on!”_

“Goro, please, listen to me.” Akira began projecting his wavelength; he thought Sumire was doing the same, but …

_“Akechi, this hurts, please stop it! Akira …!”_

_“If you aren’t going to help us, then g̴͍̚o̷̰̽ A̷̩͐W̵̆͜A̷͉̐Y̶̧̿!̶̙́"̶̨̌_

Sumire screamed and fell out of his hand, reverting to her human form and writhing on the ground in residual pain.

This _really_ wasn’t good - he could already feel burns snaking up his right arm, and it almost felt like … like Goro’s soul was trying to take over his -

But he wouldn’t back down - he _couldn’t._

“Goro - you need to calm down - tell me what’s wrong -”

_“He hurt you, Arisato hurt you, he H̶̰͊͊U̴̧Ř̵̳̭͛̓T̵̡̬͌̇̉ ̶̡̣̖͒̍Ỷ̸̨̥͈Ó̶̺U̶͖̞͑ ̵̭̟̅̈̃ͅ-̶̤̲̑̾̑͜"̴̦͛̈́͊_

Akira gripped the blade with both hands - it was getting heavier, hotter, and the pain shot up his left arm, too, but this was nothing - no, he had to stay, to bring him back somehow -

The edges of his vision started blurring as the blade in his hands oozed black blood.

_“I’ll hurt him, I'll kill him, I̥͗'̨̄LĹ͇ ̫̕T͛͜Ḙ͆Ȁ̲R HI̯͙̊̐Ṣ̚ HEA̠̽D ̡͔̑̿F̺̙͌͘R̛̖͍̩̓͂Ọ̥̘̇̃̇M̮̬̲̒͊̂ ͕̆H̭̜̻̓̽͛I̟͕̐͘S͓͡ ̰͗̈͟S͓̩̓͡H̼̟̽̆Ò̤͎̰͉̎̋̑UL͔̈́Ḏ̟́̔E̡̗̞̽͞R̞̐S̮̝͚͂͗͊ ̝̭̘̏̅̔F̨̲͚̯͓͛͂̅̕̕Ō̡̥̞̰̂͑͟͞͞R̮̩͖̲̾̔̏̚͠ͅ ͈͔̻̟̣͐̽͘͘̚Ḣ̹̦̪̥͚̈̓̋͊Ư̳͖͚̝̹̑͐͘͠R̢͍̫̩̩͒͑̉͒͠T̨̘̖̉̊͆͆̕͟͟I̫̖̥̘̞̓̓͋̾͞Ñ͍͓͓͎̭͗̀̇G̼̟̳̩̳͊̀̃̋̐ ̗̺͇͂̈́͂͊͢͢͞Y̢̙̝̗̫͌̍̕̕͠O͍̙̙̻͇͆͛̇̃͠U̡͕̟̞̗̐͒͗͋͝!͉͈̦͎͑̌̅͐̐ͅ"̨̰̩̪̲̐̉̿̈̕_

Akira’s soul was plunged into the dark ocean again, where he could no longer stop Goro.

* * *

“Wait … something’s wrong!”

“What’s going on?!”

“Separate them - _now!”_

* * *

Goro had no idea what was happening, but he _loved_ it.

His regular weapon form was swathed with his cursed blood, transmogrifying him into a heavy, wide blade that glowed red. It didn’t even have a proper hilt; Akira was holding it with a pair of blacksmith tongs, as if he meant to cool the metal but then decided a white-hot blade would do much more damage. He also found that, instead of his meister calling the shots, he was able to puppeteer Akira, as if his soul was completely absent from his body.

_Excellent … now there was no one stopping him from ripping Minato to shreds._

Unfortunately, everyone else had suddenly deemed him too dangerous; Akira’s useless friends had paired up with their weapons and were advancing on him, while Minato called for two of his other weapons, giving him a bow and some sort of hatchet on a chain in addition to the axe and spear.

_(Good. If Minato was pulling out all the stops to fight him, that meant that he was scared shitless.)_

He had no idea where Yu or his weapons were, but he was confident that he had taken him out earlier in the fight - no need to worry.

Goro charged forward, in complete control of Akira’s body. He was definitely moving quicker and swinging harder - Akira should let him take over more often. He slashed wildly at Minato, who was forced to go on the defensive. To his surprise, he found out that, empowered by his cursed blood, he was able to make other weapons bleed.

 _(yes yes this was_ good _he would paint this desert red he would make them pay)_

Minato was steadily being pushed back, his eyes darting every which way - probably trying to find some opening in which to strike -

 _(well too bad for him, Goro was moving so quickly now that there_ were _no openings, he should just lie down and lose his head, like he deserved)_

A glimmer of hope shone in Minato’s eye as he threw the hatchet like a boomerang. Goro had Akira dodge to the side, but apparently, that wasn’t who the older meister was aiming for; the hatchet encircled Goro’s blade form, wrapping its chain around him.

Oh, that was _precious._ Did he _really_ think this little baby weapon could stop him?

Since they were in close contact, Goro was able to project his dark wavelength onto her, making her scream and bleed.

 _“Minato!”_ she cried.

He gritted his teeth, holding fast to the other end of her chain. “Just hold on a little longer, Chidori - _Yu, now!”_

From out of nowhere, Goro could feel a kunai graze Akira’s hand, making his meister loosen his grip. 

_(was that really all Yu could do?)_

As if to prove him wrong, Yu barreled into Akira’s body, forcing him to let go of the blade.

Goro was in human form before he even hit the ground. The impact knocked all the air out of his lungs, but this was nothing - he could still fight - it wouldn’t take too much effort to take over Akira again -

“Oh my god - _Akira!”_

And then Goro finally looked up.

Akira was on all fours, panting and heaving, with his glasses shattered and the sleeves of his jacket burned away, revealing scorched skin. Sumire knelt down next to him and tilted his face up; there was blood dripping from the corners of his mouth.

He tried to speak, but ended up wheezing and hacking up another glob of blood. Finally, he managed to murmur, “Goro …”

His chest tightened. No, this was it, this was the end - he hurt him, and now he never wanted to see him again - he would be alone once more …

With great difficulty, Akira continued, “... is Goro okay? Is … he hurt?”

Before he realized what was happening, Goro was stumbling towards him, eventually falling to his knees in front of him. “Akira … I’m here …”

He reached out, his charred hand shaking. “Goro … you’re okay … I’m -” His entire body seized as he started coughing violently. More blood spurted from his mouth - first red, then black.

_Black blood._

_He remembered now._

_This was_ exactly _how his mother died._

* * *

Goro was eight years old when he found out he was a weapon.

He thought it was fate - he was dashing around the living room, playing along with an episode of Featherman. He slashed down with an imaginary sword as Feather Red used his own weapon - and suddenly his left arm partially turned into a blue laser sword.

This was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him - not that there was much competition. His mother raised him alone, and between all the part time jobs, he never saw much of her. His father was gone, and his mother never talked about him. 

She did, however, keep some information on him.

Hidden away under a loose floorboard was an old notebook. Most of the pages had been torn out, but among the remaining pages, there was a picture of who Goro assumed was his father, along with a sketch of a sword.

After spending several minutes trying to undo the transformation, Goro ran to dig up this old book and looked at the drawing of the weapon again. This was different from his sword form, though; it was colored red, with a sawtooth edge. He carefully flipped through the few pages left, trying to see if he could spot any of the new words he was learning in school.

There had to be _something_ left in this book - something he could use to bring his father back.

“Black blood” - that phrase showed up a lot. But he couldn’t read anything else - the rest were a bunch of big adult words, written in his mother’s messy cursive.

Goro sighed and put the notebook back. Maybe if he became a strong enough weapon, he’d be able to travel the world and find his father. And maybe if he asked his mother really nicely, she’d practice with him and maybe come with him as his meister. Even if she didn’t have meister training, he heard from some of his classmates that family members could wield each other just fine.

He headed back to the couch and settled in. Mom never told him when she’d be coming home, but he would wait as long as he had to.

“Oh, Goro … come here, my dear …”

He wiggled around; for some reason, this large cloud was lifting him in the sky, but no - he had to stay on the ground …

“I can’t imagine why you stayed up so late …”

That was weird; this cloud was speaking with his mother’s voice.

His mother … he had something really important to tell her …

Goro’s eyes snapped open as he flailed about, screaming, “Mom, wait!”

His mother yelped as he tumbled out of her arms; immediately, she knelt down and started searching him for any injuries. “Goro, don’t scare me like that - are you hurt anywhere?”

He leapt to his feet, dusting himself off. “I’m fine, but Mom - you gotta see this, look -” He held out his hand and concentrated, trying to will his sword form to appear.

His mother blinked in confusion. “Are you okay, dear?”

Goro stomped his foot and tightened the muscles in his left arm. “I’m fine, just - just wait a bit, I can do this!”

His mother raised her eyebrows and took a seat on the floor, smiling softly. “Goro, do you want to tell me what it is before you hurt yourself? I’ll always try to help, you know.”

He pouted and clasped his hands together. He really thought he could do it, but this was really important and if he wanted to talk her into training, this couldn't take much longer. “Mom, I’m a weapon! It happened earlier - I think I’m a cool laser sword!”

Her face lit up, but at the same time, something darkened in her eyes. “That’s great, dear! But you know, switching to your full weapon form _is_ easier with a meister.”

“I know, I know,” he mumbled, kicking at the ground. “I just … I know you probably didn’t train as a meister or anything, but maybe … maybe it could still work?”

She took a deep breath and sighed. “All right … but I need you to relax, okay?” she asked as she rose to her feet.

Goro nodded enthusiastically. “Okay, okay!”

His mother laughed and shook her head. “What did I say?”

“Sorry, Mom …”

She held out her hand, and Goro reached out for it. Almost instantly, he fully transformed into a laser saber.

It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced; he felt powerful and protected at the same time. His mother’s soul was warm and loving … but there was something else in the depths.

_... thank god he doesn’t look like him …_

What was his mother thinking about?

Meanwhile, she was turning him over in her hand, chuckling. “You know, you look kind of like the swords in the shows you watch.”

“I know, it’s super cool!”

“Hm …” He felt something swirl around him. “I think … you might actually have a second form …”

Goro gasped. “Wow, that means I’m really special, right? You’re really smart, Mom! Where’d you learn how to figure that out?”

“Mmm … I’ll tell you after this, okay? Let’s see … it’s hard for me to explain. I’m not a weapon, so I can’t really teach you how to switch forms …”

A second form, huh? He looked around his own soul - small and weak for now, but there was something tucked away, deep inside - he just needed to uncover it -

He changed forms and _felt_ his mother’s revulsion.

“Mom? Mom, are you okay?”

_No … no, he looks like … did he inherit it, somehow?_

His heart started beating faster. “Mom, can you hear me?”

_Did he inherit the black blood, too? This is too much … I can’t …_

The warmth of his mother’s soul was dissipating, replaced with cold hatred and fear. This couldn’t be happening. The one person that mattered to him in this world … if she abandoned him, too …

Something dark bubbled up from within his soul.

“Mom? Mom, talk to me, please … Mom, I'm not a monster, I promise!”

Goro opened his eyes with great difficulty. He was … on the ground? In human form? He didn’t understand … he was supposed to be figuring out his weapon form with his mother …

He tried to prop himself up on his arms and stuck his hand in some warm, slippery substance. When he glanced up, he almost vomited.

That mystery liquid was his mother’s blood, and she was lying in a pool of it. Her eyes stared blankly at something in the distance.

_Dead. His mother was dead._

The hallway was almost saturated with blood … and mixed in with the red, there was black ...

Right before this, she was talking - thinking? - about black blood, and the hidden notebook mentioned it, too. 

Did … did _he_ have this awful black blood? His entire body shook, and he desperately wanted to escape, but he couldn’t even tear his eyes away.

His fault … this was _his_ fault.

Goro broke down crying, but through the blurriness of his own tears, he could see that the figure on the floor was changing. Quickly, he tried to dry his eyes - maybe there was a chance that his mother was alive after all -

She wasn’t. In her place was Akira.

* * *

“Akira! _AKIRA!”_

“What the - Akechi! Hey, Akechi!”

 _Where the_ fuck _was he?! More importantly, where was Akira -?!_

“Akechi, calm down - listen to me!”

Slowly, his surroundings came into focus. White walls and a curtain partially encircling the bed he was currently sitting up in … that awful, artificial “clean” smell … was he in the hospital? The window - it was dark outside … but the Wild Card battle took place around _noon._ And next to him, gripping his wrists with trembling hands …

“Yoshizawa?”

She whimpered as if she were going to cry and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. “Thank goodness! I just - I -”

“Shh …” Goro placed a shaky hand on her upper back. “Yoshizawa, I’m sorry, but I need you to calm down and tell me what’s going on.”

“Oh … okay …” She let him go, trying to wipe away her tears. “I’m sorry … Today was just … a lot.”

Goro nodded. “I understand. Can you start with what happened after the battle?”

“Mmm.” Sumire clasped her hands together, probably in an attempt to mask the shaking. “Well … Akira was in really bad shape, and you just kinda … passed out not long after. Some other people besides you guys got admitted - Narukami and Tatsumi both had a few broken bones from your gunshot earlier in the fight, and Arisato’s hatchet friend has to stay the night, but she’ll make a full recovery.”

Goro hummed thoughtfully, mulling over Sumire’s words. He wasn’t hooked up to any machines and he was still in his clothes from earlier instead of a hospital gown, so he really must have just passed out. At least he didn’t kill anyone this time.

… he hoped.

Trying to keep his voice steady, he asked, “... Yoshizawa. Where is Akira?”

Her breath hitched, as if she was going to start crying again. Her gaze dropped to the floor as she murmured, “... are you okay standing and walking?”

Cautiously, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He put some weight on one leg, then both. After taking a few experimental steps, he turned back to her and nodded.

“... follow me, then …”

The two of them exited the room and padded down the hallway. Goro had never realized how downright creepy hospitals were at night; despite knowing that there were probably patients in most of the rooms they passed, no matter how much he strained his ears, the only thing he could hear was his and Sumire’s echoing footsteps.

Several corridors and an anxiety-inducing amount of time later, Sumire finally stopped in front of a particular door. As she rested her hand on the doorknob, she asked, “Are you really sure you want to see this?”

Goro paused and closed his eyes, trying to slow down his heartbeat. “I’m sure.”

“Alright, then …”

She turned the doorknob and pushed open the door, and Goro immediately regretted his decision.

Akira’s eyes were closed, but at least he was breathing. Then again, he was still attached to a few monitoring machines and an IV drip, and his arms …

Oh _god,_ his arms.

Despite his growing nausea, he inched closer to investigate. Akira's hands and wrists were still charred black; the dark color gradually faded away before his elbows, but streaks of black snaked up his arms, looking an awful lot like veins.

Goro paused to look at his own veins and had to grip his stomach to keep from vomiting.

This was _his_ fault.

Somehow, he had passed on his cursed blood to Akira. And sure, he might be alive now, but sooner or later, he’d be dead, dead like his mother -

“Akechi …”

Without him noticing, Sumire had taken a handkerchief out of her pocket and was dabbing at his wet cheeks.

“Akechi … the doctors said he’d be okay … please don’t cry …”

He pulled away from her, facing the wall. “What do the doctors know about this?!”

“More than you think, actually,” a new voice replied.

Both of them turned to see the newcomer: a woman in a doctor’s coat, with short dark blue hair. She pursed her lips and folded her arms as she studied the both of them. “Glad to see he’s up and walking, although I do recall asking you to come get me when he woke up, Yoshizawa.”

Sumire bowed her head bashfully. “Sorry, Dr. Takemi …”

She shrugged. “It’s fine. This actually works a little better for me - do you mind if I speak to him alone?”

Sumire squeaked. “Oh - yes, no problem - I’ll see myself out.” She scurried away and closed the door behind her.

Goro stared at the doctor expectantly, but her eyes never left the door. After a few minutes, she marched up to it and banged on the wood.

Oh the other side, someone yelped. 

“Please wait in the lobby!” Takemi shouted.

Footsteps echoed from beyond the door and faded away. Satisfied, Takemi turned back to him and whispered, “So … you have black blood?”

His throat tightened. Suddenly unable to speak, he simply nodded.

Takemi hummed thoughtfully and leaned against the wall. “There’s only one other recorded case of black blood, and that was some time ago. A weapon attending DWMA collaborated with a witch: he agreed to become her guinea pig in exchange for power. His new black blood could be weaponized, and it granted him incredible strength and durability, at the cost of potential harm to his meister. When Igor found out, he had him expelled and tried to hunt down the witch, but both of them evaded capture. They haven’t been seen since.”

This was new information, but it filled in his missing knowledge gaps quite nicely. Now that he knew where this cursed blood came from … well, it didn’t make things better, but it reinforced his resolve.

She continued, “The weapon’s name was Masayoshi Shido. Ring any bells?”

Stiffly, Goro nodded. “... he’s my father.”

Takemi grimaced. “I don’t envy you. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to stop by for a few tests. We know alarmingly little about this, and if we’re to treat him properly …” she trailed off, glancing at Akira’s unconscious body.

If it was for him … Goro cleared his throat and explained, “I can come here for your tests, and share what I know about my past … although it isn't much. It seems that if I resonate with someone else’s soul while my own is under the influence of this black blood, I transfer some of it to them. If the resonance is prolonged, it can prove … fatal.”

She sighed. “No kidding. It’s a goddamn miracle that he’s still alive.” 

"So, um …" He hugged himself in a sad attempt to calm his nerves. "... his arms …"

Takemi tapped her chin. "When he came in, I thought they were burns, and that's what I told the rest of his friends. Now, though … I'm pretty sure they're related to the black blood. They might fade away, they might not - I guess we'll see when I run my tests on you." She took Goro's wrist and lifted it to her eye level, inspecting it. "Your veins aren't like that … maybe there's something we can do about it."

Goro sighed in relief. "Thank goodness …"

"There's something else we need to discuss …" Scratching the back of her head, she moved in front of Goro. “Look, I managed to save him this time, but there’s no guarantee that he’ll dodge death twice. Whatever you did - that black blood resonance thing - don’t do it again.”


	4. i will find you, my dear (wherever you are)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro and Akira make a decision.

Cheerily, Akira asked, “Hey, do you think we can practice with that new sword form again?”

Goro promptly spat out his coffee, splattering the pavement in front of them.

Akira froze. “Uh … Goro, are you …?”

Before he had even said anything, his weapon partner was already sprinting away.

A bell jingled, and Futaba stood next to him, holding her own cup of coffee. “Dude. We all saw that. What’d you _do?”_

Wincing, Akira turned around and sure enough, all of his friends were staring at him through the coffee shop window.

He sighed and walked back into the shop with Futaba. Their friends were very clearly wanting to ask the same question, but fortunately, they held their tongues and instead stared at him expectantly.

Admitting defeat, he sunk back into his chair and explained, “I just asked if we could practice with that new sword form …”

Flatly, Makoto said, “You mean that new sword form that _almost killed you?”_

Akira drummed his fingers on the table. “... I _may_ see what the problem is now.”

Futaba sighed. “Akira, do you need help trying to find your sense of self-preservation again?”

He pouted. “Guys, I _have_ one, I swear …”

Simultaneously, the entire table replied, “No, you don’t.”

Akira folded his arms. “Fine. Name _one_ time I prioritized other things over my own life.”

Yusuke raised his hand. “You tried to fight Madarame’s demon form alone. If I hadn’t found out I was a weapon at that instant, you would have died.”

Ann added, “During the raid on Kaneshiro’s hideout, you threw yourself in front of Makoto to tank an attack instead of, you know, using me to pull her away or something.”

Futaba grinned and punched his shoulder. “You ran into a collapsing building with zero backup on the _slight_ chance that you could save me!”

Haru chimed in, “During the last Wild Card battle, you threw Ann and me behind you to block an attack from Arisato so we wouldn’t get hurt.”

Akira was silent for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. Geez, with the way his friends all talked, he almost believed that he didn't care about his own life. But that wasn't the case, was it? It wasn't that he didn't care about his own life ... it was that there were a lot of things that he felt were worth much more.

Sighing, he refuted, “... well, that was all to protect other people! You guys would’ve gotten hurt if I didn’t do something!”

Shiho folded her arms. “Then what makes this different? Using that form won’t save anyone.”

Akira scratched the back of his head. “But what if it does later? What if it’s the only way to defeat someone, and everyone else dies otherwise?”

Sumire slammed her coffee cup down. “No!”

The rest of the table fell silent, staring at her. She was uncomfortable for a moment, but Sumire continued, “If that ever happens, there’s _got_ to be another way - one where you don’t risk your life. It’s not a victory if we end up losing you. And Akechi … I don’t think he’d take it well.” Under her breath, she added, “Out of all of us here, I think he’d take it the worst …”

Ryuji lightly slapped Akira’s back. “Look, I know you would ride or die for any of us here - and honestly, same - but … try _not_ to die? We’d all rather have you alive. And ...” He sighed heavily. “Akechi’s an ass, but I think the same goes for him.”

* * *

Goro couldn’t even make it back to their apartment; not far from the coffee shop, he ducked into an alleyway, leaning against the brick wall for strength as he tried to ride out the panic attack.

How … _how_ could he suggest that so casually?!

He had gone to the hospital every day while Akira was hospitalized; most of Dr. Takemi’s tests on him were completed within the first few days, but Goro soon found that coming home to an empty apartment hurt more than he could ever imagine. He couldn’t even sleep that first night - the thought of waking up to a world without Akira twisted his insides until he was sure he was going to puke. Eventually, he did fall asleep, but then he had a nightmare in which Dr. Takemi called him, saying that Akira had passed away.

Goro took to sleeping on the sofa in Akira’s hospital room after that. Normally, it wouldn’t be allowed, but thankfully, Dr. Takemi made an exception.

How in the _fuck_ did this happen?

He’d been doing so well all these years on his own. There was nothing but training and taking on odd jobs hunting villains and demons. All he had to worry about was his own progress and the inevitable showdown between himself and his awful father. He had even unintentionally suppressed the true memory of his mother’s death …

And now just the _thought_ of losing Akira utterly destroyed him. He wasn’t sure which was more terrifying - actually losing him or the absolute power he had over his heart. Goro couldn’t believe it. After all these years, he finally had a weakness. If he were still the person he was before, he would have snuffed it out immediately, but now …

He was completely powerless when it came to Akira, and he _hated_ it.

* * *

As the days passed, Akira made sure to avoid bringing up the new sword form with Goro. But it seemed as if that wasn’t the only touchy subject anymore - any suggestions of training at all were immediately shot down by his weapon partner, and for practical classes, he only synchronized with him for as long as it took to complete the assignment - afterwards, he would make some excuse to leave class early. And instead of that familiar, homey feeling of their usual synchronization, it felt cold and lonely - as if Goro was intentionally throwing up a wall to keep him out.

Even at home, he never saw much of Goro. He always said that he wasn’t trying to avoid Akira, but it certainly seemed that way: he left for school before Akira woke up, he was nearly impossible to locate on campus during the day, and he did his best to come home late at night, sometimes after Akira had fallen asleep.

He never realized how much he could miss someone. He missed their synchronizations and the little thrum of excitement from Goro’s soul when they figured out a new technique. He missed the way he had to tie back his hair in a small ponytail during particularly tough training sessions. He missed going to the coffee shop with him after school, missed pulling out one of the shop’s board games and playing until one of them got tired of losing, missed his soft smile, his laugh, the way he looked at him when he thought he wasn’t looking -

But it was okay, really - he’d come around eventually, right? They’d be back to how they were before, and maybe then tears would stop randomly falling from Akira’s eyes.

… oh god, he was crying into his dinner again.

Akira backed away from the pot of curry, hastily wiping the tears from his eyes. This was getting embarrassing - but fortunately, no one would witness his weakness: after all, his roommate never stopped to spare him a glance anymore.

The thought brought a wave of fresh tears.

“... is the curry tonight really spicy or something?”

Akira’s breath hitched in his throat as he wiped down his face with his sleeves. There he was, actually talking to him - this was it, he couldn’t let him get away this time -

“Uh, no, not at all - it’s just the way you like it, honestly - it’ll be ready in a bit, so please stay -”

Silently, Goro picked up some tissues and closed the distance between them, gently dabbing at his wet cheeks. His thumb lingered on Akira’s jawline for a moment longer than necessary, and their eyes met briefly before he smiled weakly and took his seat at the dining table.

Now Akira had more nervous energy than he knew what to do with. Waiting three minutes for the curry to finish simmering suddenly turned into an unbearable eternity. After realizing he made several laps around the kitchen, he tried to sit down, but ended up bouncing his knee so much that he was surprised that Goro didn’t make some snarky comment. Finally, the little kitchen timer rang, and he leapt to his feet to turn it off.

After fumbling with the little timer for a bit, Akira reached for the ladle, only to realize that Goro had beat him to it. His roommate motioned to the table, saying, “You’re really jittery today, and I’d rather not spend the evening cleaning curry off the stovetop.”

Akira sat back down, pouting. “I wasn’t gonna spill any …”

Goro continued filling their plates as if he hadn’t heard him. Soon, he had set the plates down on the table and taken his seat. Instead of eating, though, both of them started fidgeting with their silverware.

“So -” they both said simultaneously. 

Akira felt his cheeks turn bright red as he bowed his head. Across the table, he was pretty sure Goro had done the same. He gripped his fork tightly before raising his head.

“You first,” they said, again at the same time.

Akira couldn’t help but laugh. Goro, meanwhile, was blushing madly while trying (and failing) to hide his grin behind his hands. It finally felt like they were back to normal.

At least, until Goro’s smile faded and his bright garnet eyes dulled. He took a deep breath, as if he was steeling himself, and blurted out, “I’m transferring to the solo weapon program.”

It felt like the floor had suddenly disappeared, and Akira was falling into an abyss. Goro’s words so thoroughly shattered his mind that he was pretty sure he forgot all the words in the English language. Weakly, he stammered, “You - wait - you ... what?”

From the look on Goro’s face, Akira was reacting exactly how he expected him to react - poorly. His roommate buried his face in his hands and continued, “I’m sorry, Akira, but this way, I won’t be able to hurt you again …”

“But - you didn’t …” Akira gritted his teeth as he realized that he couldn't counter the fact that it was indeed Goro's fault that he was hospitalized for three weeks. But if he had to choose between that and never seeing his partner again ...

There was no question.

Akira slammed his fist on the table and shouted, “I don’t care! I _want_ you here with me!”

Clearly, this was the wrong thing to say; Goro leapt to his feet and yelled, “You don’t care that you _almost died?!_ What’s wrong with you?!”

“We can just not use that move ever again - and whatever that thing is in your soul, I’m sure we can work on it -”

“It’s not - !” Goro ran his hand through his hair as he took a deep breath. “It’s not some _thing_ that you can magic out of me. It’s a part of me that won’t ever go away, and until the day I die, _any_ meister that partners with me will be in danger.”

Akira gripped the edges of the table. “Goro, just talk to me about it, please - we have a lot of resources and knowledge here, I’m sure we can find a way around it -”

“I killed my mother with this cursed blood!” Goro cried, tears streaming freely down his face as he dropped to his knees. “She’s _dead_ because I lost control! Akira … please don’t make me kill you, too … _please_...”

Any remaining arguments faded away in his throat. Sumire and Ryuji were right, after all - it would tear Goro apart if he ever died, and it would be even worse if it were his new sword form that killed him. If there really was no way around this cursed blood … If Goro was no longer willing to work with him …

Akira moved to the floor and pulled Goro close, letting him cry on his shoulder. In turn, Goro wrapped his arms tightly around him, digging his fingers into his back. As his partner’s tears subsided, Akira whispered, “I’m so sorry, Goro …”

Between sobs, Goro managed to say, “I don’t want to hurt you anymore … I’m sorry I made this decision without telling you ...”

Akira nodded while rubbing Goro’s upper back. “It’s okay. I get that. If that’s what you want, then who am I to stop you?”

In response, Goro lifted his head up, looking at Akira with confusion in his eyes. “You’re just … are you really okay with this?”

Akira ran his hand through Goro’s hair (and ignored the fact that he felt him shiver). “On one little, kind of selfish condition …” He stood up and extended his hand. “If you’re going solo after this, can I sync with you one last time?”

Goro stared at his open hand and chuckled. “You are disgustingly sentimental …”

Despite his insult, he took Akira’s hand and switched into his laser saber form. Instead of their usual comfortable synchronization, it felt like Akira’s helplessness and sorrow were amplified. It was like someone had reached into his chest and torn out his heart. Losing Goro felt like losing the first real home he had in ages. If there were some way - _any_ way - that they could stay together …

_"Akira?"_

He gripped the sword tighter. Not now, he couldn't falter now, this was the _last_ time he'd be able to feel Goro's soul, he couldn't ruin it by being sad -

_"Akira ..."_

And the way he was saying his name certainly didn't help matters. He shut his eyes and tried to steady his breathing, tried to focus on this moment and this moment alone, and not the beautiful, hopeful future with Goro that was about to be stolen from him -

Abruptly, Goro switched back to his human form, his hand still clutching Akira’s. He lifted his other hand and brushed it against Akira’s cheek. “You’re crying …” he simply explained.

_If he was never going to see Goro again …_

Without dwelling too much on what he was about to do, Akira closed the gap between them and briefly pressed his lips to Goro’s.

His eyes fluttered open after the longest half-second of his life to see Goro’s face turn a shade of red he didn’t think was humanly possible.

Taking a step backwards, he bowed his head and muttered, “That was … _really_ selfish of me, I’m sorry.” He turned around, intending on hiding in his room until Goro moved out.

“Hey.” He grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn back around.

Akira shut his eyes, bracing for whatever verbal or physical retaliation Goro thought was appropriate -

And suddenly, there was a hand on the back of his head, pushing him into Goro’s lips. His eyes snapped open; Goro was _very_ close, sporting a small, amused smile.

“Is being selfish _really_ all that bad?” he asked, in a low voice.

In response, Akira initiated another, deeper kiss. Goro eagerly reciprocated.

After they finally got around to eating their dinner, they moved to the couch in the living room. Goro switched the television to a random channel while Akira sat next to him, resting his cheek on his shoulder and clinging to one of his arms like a koala. Goro tried to give him a disapproving look, but he couldn’t hide the upward curl of his lips.

“So …” Akira started, pressing closer to Goro. “You said some of the black blood got transferred to me?”

Grimly, Goro nodded. “Even with all the tests Dr. Takemi’s performed on me, we still don’t know everything about it. You run the risk of transferring it to other weapons as long as it flows through your veins, and we don’t have a way of safely extracting it.”

Akira raised an eyebrow. “Safely?”

With a hint of sarcasm, Goro explained, “Well, if you _really_ wanted to make sure, I could ask Dr. Takemi to bleed you dry. You wouldn’t have black blood anymore, but you’d also be dead.”

Akira had to chuckle at the joke. “It’s clear what we have to do now, then.”

Goro pursed his lips. “Is it?”

“Of course it is. We find that witch and … and your father.” He felt Goro stiffen, and he moved to hold his hand as he continued, “They made this shit, they can fix it. Or we can steal their research notes and reverse-engineer it.”

Goro sighed and leaned back. “Can we really do that, though?”

Akira scoffed. “Of course we can! Training to hunt witches and other evildoers is the entire point of DWMA. And plus, we _know_ that those two are on Igor’s target list. The worst they can do is send someone else in our place.”

“Well, I meant …” Goro squeezed his hand. “... you know it's just _your_ black blood that we're trying to remove, right? I ... _all_ my blood is black blood. There's no saving me.”

Akira looked into his garnet eyes and sensed a familiar warmth that would not have been there just a few months prior. Raising his hand to comb through Goro's hair, he said, "Didn't I already do that, though? You were gonna be alone for the rest of your life, and now you're not."

Goro turned a very bright scarlet and turned away, trying to hide his face in his other hand. "You are _disgustingly_ sentimental, and that's - that's not even what I meant!"

He simply laughed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "So what did you mean?"

Goro turned back to face him, with his hand covering his still-red cheeks. “I meant going after that witch and my father. If we didn’t need to find them to remove your black blood …”

Akira sighed. “I’d probably end up fighting them anyway. From what you’ve told me, it sounds like a mission that Igor would use a Wild Card for. I guess it’d be less of a personal vendetta, but they’re still a witch and a rogue weapon. If left alone, they could easily revive the demon god, and I’m not letting that happen.”

Goro pressed his forehead to Akira's. “... you’ll stay with me, then?”

He gave him another gentle kiss. “Until the very end.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read, left kudos, or commented! <3 Not sure if I want to continue this main plot or not, but I do have a bunch of side stories about the other meister-weapon pairs because this AU is way too much fun. Thanks again!


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